


throw opinions like rocks in riots

by Anonymous



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2019 Formula 1 Season, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Realisations, Summer break, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: everything's basically a done deal, another championship win, who his teamate will be for next season.but then why does lewis still feel like his world's about to fall apart.





	throw opinions like rocks in riots

**Author's Note:**

> okay this basically happened because I heard a song and was like damm this is a lewis healing from nico and falling in love with sebastian song.  
im clueless actually to the nico era so its all informed and inferred information from tumblr and other fic. Nico might be a nice guy? Do I trust him and his white jeans. No.  
a lot of this is probably factually incorrect but also im writing rpf about sportsmen so whose gonna fact check me? My fbi agent?  
my normal rpf warning: I stress that this is obviously fictional; please remember to be respectful of everyone involved and not leave weird comments or think this is real. idk what its like in this fandom but y’all stay chill. 
> 
> forever unchecked so expect edits when i reread and notice errors

It kind of rolls off him at first, snide commentary that Nico’s running his mouth on social media again. That’s Nico’s default, and has been ever since… has been for a while now. Max is a hero really, for knocking Nico down a peg. In the way only someone whose barely twenty and fearless can. Lewis personally thinks Max is twice as good as Nico will ever be, but it’s not worth that shit storm. He’s too busy trying to get everyone to stop the booing. Max’s take down deserves an insta story at the least though.

This season is odd, it’s already a given, his win that is. Except it hasn’t been smooth sailing. Canada it all goes wrong, he wins but it comes at the cost of Sebastian, a Sebastian who the day after had called and said half-jokingly that Canada will be his win in everything but the books, but otherwise Lewis is forgiven. Lewis goes into the week leading up to Hungary feeling all out of shape. He’s normally unshakable, but there’s something bothering him deep down. It hasn’t got a name yet, but he’s quick to blame that for why he spends the rest of the week fighting his own body and just trying to get through things. Summer break is meant to be exactly what it says on the tin. When it isn’t, it hurts. Like he’s mentally and physically on top, the best he’s ever been. But it feels hollow. A gap missing.

A measure of good criticism is when it shapes you, makes you get better and wiser. A measure of bad criticism is when it rolls off your back, and you pay it no mind. Said no one never. Except it’s sort of him versus the world at the moment. The criticism hasn’t been good in what feels like an age. All in house fighting and calls of who’s number one because it certainly isn’t him anymore. Weird that four means nothing to twenty-two-year olds who go through too much tragedy. Seb finds he doesn’t resent Charles at all. The kids messy for sure, it feels like half the grid is under twenty-five and has suffered through more shit than Seb feels he could ever be burdened with and come out unscathed from.

Charles just needs protection, from himself more than anything else. Maybe he’ll take the Max route and hurtle towards the earth, burning up teammates in a supernova flash. Seb feels old, and some part of him feels like he wouldn’t mind be consumed up by Charles going supernova, the win clad in red feels further and further away. A lot of him feel’s like he personally doesn’t want to burn out that way. Go out with a bang sure, but out on his own terms.

* * *

The unspoken openness of it all. Implied within the paddock and in between the lines, that Lewis was the best, but gets better as time extends and the black hole that’s Nico Rosberg stops threating to swallow Lewis mind up. Deadlines for the other Mercedes seat to be finalised are rapidly swinging towards them, Lewis watches it hurtling, terrified and unable to vocalise his fears. The impetus of it all is Daniel, everyone writes him off as the immature but good driver figure, but the scariest part is everyone underestimates the way Daniel watches from the side-lines. The paddocks used to Max standing there too, stocky and protected under the wing of his former teammate. Daniel and Max are the goals of the paddock couples, well balanced and open with each other, thriving more now that they aren’t having their hands forced by clueless team bosses. 

Daniel notices things, and Lewis has let Daniel in enough that he doesn’t have a problem with the curious texts the Australian keeps sending. These offers to talk, that come in ‘go for a beer’ or curiously ‘I know a good vegan spot’. Lewis agrees, they meet up and sit down. It’s been a long time since it’s just been a Lewis and Dan catch up. Its good. His brain knows Daniel is not a threat, not on the track in a lumbering Renault, and not in the real world, too caught up in a Dutch wunderkind and a questionable age gap. But Lewis can’t quite find the words to say, ‘I’m scared’. Apparently, Dan reads between the lines enough.

Kimi rocks up at Lewis’ door, his proper, Monaco front door. And it throws Lewis for a twist. Kimi and Lewis most definitely do not hang out. He invites the older driver in anyways. Offers drinks and Kimi declines, like it’s a passing visit. Kimi sits, legs wide on the sofa, idly flicking a ball at a semi-disinterested Roscoe. Silence burning up the air.

‘Nico isn’t coming back. You understand that.’

Lewis tries not to sputter out his water.

‘You have the choice right, I talk to Valtteri enough, to know that Toto won’t care what anyone says but you. Especially not since Niki’

Kimi has the foresight to pause then.

‘You have the choice. Then you can come join me in just driving for the hell of it’

Kimi laughs, this odd sort of thing, and Lewis likes it. It looks good on Kimi. The kids and Minattu have been good for him. He leaves not long after, Lewis and the dogs left to contemplate in his wake.

> **19.57:** thanks man. For having my back. Blessed to have friends like you
> 
> **20:00:** ahh love a good lewis hashtag blessed. Glad kimi did you some good.

Roscoe sniffles as Lewis scrolls his contacts, all the way to the bottom.

‘Lewis. Hello’

Valtteri has a funny phone manner, unsure and different from his normal personal contact, and the connection seems fuzzy, so Lewis figures his teammate is back in Finland, holding out on some big Mercedes decision and the last vestiges of Summer Break. For a second he doesn’t know what to say.

‘Look, Valtteri, I’m going to be forward, and I can’t make promises. But I’m going to ask Toto tomorrow. To keep you on. I’ll even let you win a few races the rest of this year, but I’

He pauses. Valtteri laughs.

‘And your telling me because?’

Lewis affords his guard down just this once, blame Daniel and his sunny smile for inputting this whole action into motion.

‘You’re a good driver, I think we might be friends. And I’m not willing to watch the implosion that we know Esteban will cause. And I’d hate to see your talent wasted back at Williams or some bullshit.’

Valtteri takes a breath, Lewis cuts him off.

‘I don’t want you to be a footnote in the Lewis Hamilton story’

‘Then don’t give me the easy wins Hamilton’

They talk for a while longer. The hollowness in Lewis starts to fade.

* * *

Toto laughs when Lewis turns up on his doorstep the next evening. Like he had seen the request coming from miles off. Susie smiles and offers him water and watches as the paperwork is strewn about. Her accent reminds him of home, the grey clouds and rainy skies sort of home. Britain’s in a heatwave (again). He should go soak up the sun out there on lush ground surrounded by accents he understands. Get away from Monaco just for a stop gap of clarity. Then the doorbell rings. It doesn’t fail to pass by Lewis the way Toto looks slightly guilty. A rare look. Susie is not one for sheepish, but the way she says ‘I’ll get it’ confuses Lewis. The hollowness just so recently starting to dissipate, tightens up again.

‘It’s not what you think it is’ Toto’s cryptic at best sometimes, but the statement is just weird.

The Wolff’s office is silent. For a second Lewis wonders where Jack is. But he can’t get the question out of his mouth when a figure appears at the door of the office, standing next to Susie, all sheepish grin and blonde curls.

Lewis first thought is Sebastian looks good in normal clothes, away from the Ferrari red. His second thought is that Sebastian might be the best rival he’s ever had. Because he’s so far from mad at seeing the German. For half a horrible second he had thought it was Nico. But Sebastian is a friend.

Toto quirks an eyebrow at the laugh that springs forward from Lewis.

Susie smiles this all-knowing smile. And Lewis is moving to clap Sebastian on the back. Seb’s apologetic grimace turns into a smile and pulling Lewis into a hug.

‘Nice to see someone sane in the Wolff household, thought it was impossible’ Sebastian says with a wry smile.

* * *

Toto cooks them dinner, and Lewis can’t take his eyes off Seb. Apparently, this is just a normal thing. That the Ferrari golden boy comes around to the head of the enemy’s house for dinner occasionally. Brings a bottle of wine and a crate of the ‘good beers’ and just chats anything but shop. He hasn’t seen Seb this relaxed in a long time. It feels good. It feels like family. He excuses himself, the moment he realises he’s too comfortable.

He doesn’t panic in the bathroom. Just takes a minute to himself. Begs his brain to know to not take the good things away. Just to give him this.

Sebastian’s waiting outside the bathroom, leant up against the wall. Lewis knows the layout of the Wolff’s enough to know there are two other guest bathrooms.

‘Kimi’s a gossip, even if he just talks with his eyebrows’

Seb smiles, its warm. His beard looks good. Better than the moustache.

‘I know you like the Finn’s, so I had to make sure Valtteri was driving up with the rest of us and not back down in the Williams’

‘Out of the kindness of the mighty Lewis Hamilton’s heart, how he humbles us all’ Seb pauses, hesitates for a second.

‘Have anywhere to stay in this neck of the woods? Or are you taking that pretty car out front back to a hotel’

Lewis laughs, because all the car rental place had left was a cheap Peugeot or a Ferrari, and he’d opted for the latter. Sebastian knows that Lewis was planning on crashing at a hotel.

‘Come stay at mine. As long as you want’

And then the German man offers a nugget of his psyche up for Lewis to take.

‘I could do with some company that won’t offer criticism’

They say their thanks and goodbyes to the Wolff’s. Sebastian sits in the passenger seat of the Ferrari and for the two-minute drive it takes to get next door, comes up with random joking criticisms, ‘Roscoe snores loud’, ‘Valtteri’s porridge is a defensive mechanism’ Lewis tunes him out, until he doesn’t. ‘Lewis Hamilton’s new hairstyle, best in years’. Sebastian just continues the joke commentary as the car pulls into the drive, he’s veering into bad dad humour but some of them are funny. Its Sebastian. Lewis think’s he’d laugh anyways.

* * *

The Ferrari sits, beauty wasted in the dark. It’s inhabitants stuck still in a moment of bad comedy and worn down mentality. Lewis lets himself have another transgression and grabs Sebastian’s hand, turns to face the other man illuminated by nothing but the lights inside the German’s house.

‘You look good, like this’

Lewis steels for whatever retort he’s expecting to get, closes his eyes for half a second as Kimi echoes in his mind ‘He’s not Nico’. When he reopens them he’s rewarded with sheepish grin Vettel, in a worn down loose t-shirt.

‘You look good as well, I think you probably own it more than me’

Sebastian leads them up to the house, lets them in. Lewis forgets how homely the Vettel house really is, like a family lives there. Which it does. His mind helpfully supplies.

The living room is neutral colours and the pink of girl’s toys. Hanna sits slumped on a sofa half dozing, glass of red wine precariously slipping from her hand.

Lewis watches as Sebastian pads over and kisses his wife on the forehead, watches as Hanna wakes up and recognition burns in her eyes. It’s a mirror of a scene he’s seen before, watching from the outside in. Except this time, its not a model, but Hanna, gorgeous in her own way. It’s not the man that broke his heart, but Sebastian, whose mending things up all blonde curls and spying under cars. It almost feels like floating, watching two people be in love. Hanna seems happy to see him, overjoyed even. All apologies that the girls are asleep. She pushes a kiss to his head and babbles all accented where the bathroom is and then ‘sorry you’ve been here before’. Lewis clocks the way Sebastian watches them with the same warmth and love in his eyes as when it was just Hanna alone.

That’s for us. For me. Shared looks.

Sebastian’s gaze doesn’t burn, instead it stokes the fire. Cares for him.

‘You going to stay over then?’

Hanna’s voice is sleepy but caring.

‘I don’t want to impose’ and he tries not to say it pleadingly, but he hopes they catch that he really does want to impose. Sneak his way in. Stay in this house, play families and never go back to the f1 circus. Lewis reels his brain in.

‘Chamomile’ Sebastian say’s, still over by the sofa, staring back at them.

There’s a ‘huh’ and a ‘please’ in reply.

Sebastian disappears to the kitchen; Hanna goes back to her spot on the sofa, Lewis feels it would be impolite not to follow. She put’s her feet up on his lap with ease, like it’s something they always do. Offers him a look that says ‘is this okay’. He replies by holding her ankle loosely. They make small talk, loose chatter. She doesn’t bring up racing or the past. Instead focuses things on futures and presents. Impressive for a woman who was fast asleep all but twenty minutes ago. And who Lewis only knows in passing from Galas and association. It’s such nice chatter, that neither of them really notices Sebastian walk back in, three mugs of chamomile tea in hand, slipping himself next to Hanna and into the conversation.

It doesn’t take more than a few sips of her tea for Hanna to start dozing again, Sebastian chuckles and nudges her awake. Hanna makes her apologies and kisses Lewis on the forehead goodnight. Lewis watches the two of them go off to the bedroom, Sebastian saying ‘ill be right back’, he excuses himself to the bathroom.

There’s no Sebastian outside when he walks out again, just neutral walls and family photos. Lewis walks back through the house and passes the kitchen. Sebastian’s there, putting the mugs in the dishwasher.

‘You don’t have a maid then’

The other man jumps, just a little. It brings a smile to Lewis face.

‘How many times do I have to remind you, maids are reserved for five-time champions’

Sebastian puts the dishwasher tablet in, sets the machine on, and walks over.

‘Bedtime now, its late’

It’s not really late, eleven is sort of an early night for Lewis.

Sebastian guides them through to the guest room, its decorated nicely, very Sebastian.

‘Hanna left a toothbrush and some sleeping pants in the en suite. Give me a second and I’ll go change’

Lewis heads into the en suite so caught up in the notion of when did Hanna get the time to put a toothbrush and pants, that he doesn’t mull on the way Sebastian said ‘I’ll go change’ the toothbrush is a fancy bamboo one, with charcoal brushes. Expensive for guests. The sleeping pants are comfy, soft flannel in red check. Maybe he should incorporate sleeping pants into the Tommy Hilfiger line. His reflection looks like eleven is a late time. Tired but pleased and content.

The duvet is heavy down, soft sheets and a silk pillow. It feels luxurious yet not unattainable. Still so very Sebastian. Speaking of, the German walks back into the room, in a mirror pair of sleeping pants, blue flannel instead of Lewis red. Any other world, it would be an opportune moment to make a joke about team colours. But Lewis is distracted by the shirtless Sebastian in front of him. It’s a rare sight, and most definitely not a bad one. Lewis works for his own figure, flaunts it all time in insta stories and the like. He forgets sometimes, that just because the man in front of him never flaunts it. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have it.

And then Sebastian gets into the bed next to him. And Lewis is terrified his treacherous heart will leap right out of his chest with a might ba-dum. It doesn’t, but his voice betrays him as he croaks out ‘Your sleeping here then?’

‘My bed technically’ and Sebastian chuckles, ‘Hanna knows where I am, she’s okay with it. Just sorry she’s so tired’

Lewis pauses, takes a breath and takes the other man’s words in. Tries not to stare at the gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, the boyish charm that hasn’t faded away ever. He’s caught though in the staring.

‘oh’ is all he can think to say, as blond curls get closer and a pair of lips press against his own.

Movie kisses are bullshit, except maybe this is a movie kiss. Soft and rewarding, with need and purpose. Sebastian’s hand cups Lewis face, tenderly as he pulls away, traces of evidence in the form of a strand of saliva, it should be gross, and it sort of is. There in their thirties, one of them is married. Sebastian just leans in again and chases the previous kiss with another, and another, and so on. Until Lewis lets himself be manoeuvred into a lying down position. Sebastian presses one final soft kiss to his nose, and Lewis finds himself pressing one back in the mirroring spot. It feels natural, the way they both curl into each other, muscled torsos and soft skin, chasing kisses over tattoos.

It’s the best sleep Lewis has had all season. In years maybe.

The first time, in a long time, he wakes up with someone in a bed but isn’t disoriented. Isn’t confused or panicked. Is just content. He snuggles back into Sebastian’s side, lets the German’s snoring lull him back to sleep.

Sebastian wakes up to a clatter, opens his eyes blearily, to see a sheepish Hanna balancing two mugs and keeping a frame on the sideboard propped up.

‘Skills of a mother their sweetie’

She laughs and manages to balance the frame up without putting either mug down.

‘That’s the skills motherhood gives you? Impressive’

Lewis voice is sleep rough. Sebastian finds he likes it, wants to hear more of it.

‘And I’m a professional barista on top of professional mother. Lewis, I presume you still like your coffee black and two sugars’

He has no idea how she remembers that; she’s been around him when he’s had a coffee maybe once. And then it strikes Lewis, how many times at conferences and the like, Sebastian’s made him or watched him make coffee. The thought of Sebastian telling Hanna how he takes his coffee, that someone has filed such inane information about him away. It burns a little, that sense of being wanted. Instead he say’s perfect and takes the steaming mug. Ignores the way her hand brushes against his own, and the lingering jolt that comes with that.

Hanna smiles and goes around to Sebastian’s side of the bed, drops his mug off with a kiss, some rapid-fire German that elicits a raised eyebrow and then a soft smile from Sebastian. And then she’s gone. Lewis feels well rested yet all of a sudden out of place.

‘She asked if we slept good’ Sebastian’s beet red when he says it.

‘If we slept “good” or if we slept good?’ Lewis laughs, dragging out the first good.

‘Both I think’ and then Sebastian is kissing him again, it’s a kiss that tastes of very sweet coffee.

‘You bring any spare clothes in the front of that tiny Ferrari of yours’

‘No, and no matter what’s going on here, I’m not borrowing yours. The Vettel style isn’t really going to do me any favours.’ Lewis pauses. Sebastian’s looking at him all puppy dog eyes and like he’s about to launch it a trademark long spiel about why his clothes aren’t all terrible. ‘And what is going on here Seb? What is this?’

‘It’s whatever you need it to be. It can be nothing if you want. We can forget about it. I just. Needed.’ There’s a beat, a moment where Lewis wants to throw himself at Sebastian and leave the world and never look back. Sebastian’s steady voice takes up the silence again. Quiet, reserved and all knowing. ‘You’ve spent the season looking sad when you’re not looking at me. Like something was going to go wrong at any moment even when you’re on top. Again…. I wanted to fix it. I was just going to invite you out for a drink when I was back in Monaco but that felt to Ni- not very us. Then Dan and Kimi both texted me last night to say you were at Toto’s, and Hanna was nothing but encouraging. I uh, shot my shot? Or whatever the kids say’

Lewis takes a sip of his coffee; Hanna has made it perfectly.

‘It’s shoot your shot and don’t ever say it again okay’ Lewis lets himself lean into a laugh, breaches the honesty he’s been using so much more in the past few days. ‘Can we keep it like this, I think I might like it. I’ll stay a few days.’

He leans in and places a kiss on Sebastian’s lips, ‘I’m ordering some clothes in though.’

**Author's Note:**

> uploaded anon because my ao3 name is irl knowledge, im [tororuhroh](https://tororuhroh.tumblr.com/)
> 
> the official playlist for this is, alanis morissette / [cant not](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDa4x3vRgGs)  
(that song in the intro notes),  
bastille / [quarter past midnight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1VzzNbfPaM)  
little big league / [never have i ever walked away when the time was right](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjRLNjIXvBY)  
mitski/ [me and my husband](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TU_Dbxciei8)  
the title comes from alanis / no pressure over cappuccino


End file.
